Fatherless
by ardavenport
Summary: Obi-Wan's father dies. Then duty calls them on a Jedi Matter. And I heard it from the Maker's own lips at Celebration V; Obi-Wan Kenobi comes from the planet, Stewjon. Jon Stewart's inquiry about where he came from is just a coincidence. :
1. Chapter 1

**FATHERLESS**

by ardavenport

**- - - - - PART 1**

* * *

When his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn came very early to his room, waking him, to tell him that his father had died, Obi-Wan Kenobi felt nothing.

He recognized that it was a sad event, but it was only his biological father who had died on his home world, Stewjon. The Kenobi family had done little to stay in contact since their oldest child was given to the Jedi Temple to be trained, beyond a few obligatory visits when he was a small youngling. He was almost eighteen standard years old now.

Nor was his death a surprise. The family had sent a message to the Temple that Zuroyo Kenobi was ill and Obi-Wan had been immediately tested for genetic markers of his degenerative nerve condition, but he had not inherited it, nor had it manifested among the rest of the family before.

Now Obi-Wan's father had died and the family's notification included an invitation to attend the memorial. He had glumly stared at the glowing yellow text on the small data screen Qui-Gon showed him. He hoped his duties would prevent him from attending. But they did not. Then Qui-Gon asked if he could accompany him. Shocked, he had not even considered the possibility that he might go alone. He hastily accepted Qui-Gon's offer.

Now, sitting on a second row bench of the family section of the audience at his biological father's memorial, Obi-Wan peered under the hood of his brown robe at the people next to him while Tima Kenobi-Kuch, standing at the speaker's podium amidst stands of white and pale purple flowers, sang a tribute to her now dead brother. Birds called out as they flew by in a cloudless blue sky. The nearby surf partially drowned out the singing.

Everyone had been polite but formal when he had arrived. They did not know each other. He had been prepared for that. But he had not expected to find himself amidst a crowd of people who all looked like him. Versions of him with lighter hair or darker skin. Older, fatter versions of him. Youngling versions of him. Female versions of him. There were fewer than twenty extended family members. Aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, but they all bore the same strong resemblance. Obi-Wan could tell by sight alone which ones were members of the Kenobi clan by birth and which by marriage or alliance.

He caught his sister peeking back at him before hastily turning back to the front. Obi-Wan's eyes went to the benches where the friends of the family sat, the top of the dark brown hood of Qui-Gon's robe visible over the heads of most of the others.

Tima Kenobi-Kuch finished her song and Zuroyo Kenobi's father took her place at the podium flanked by the floral displays. Paunchy, bearded and white-haired, Cham-Obi Kenobi moved a little slowly and leaned on the podium for support as he spoke. Obi-Wan hoped he would not look like his biological grandfather when he got old.

Three women and a man in white robes called out a farewell to the winds and rang bells. The memorial was over. Obi-Wan sighed and got up with the others. Everyone shuffled away from the benches, led by the foursome in white to the life-celebration area ringed by the local giant grasses waving in the hot, humid sea breeze, scented by the tall displays of white and pastel flowers.

Deliberately walking slowly to let his Master catch up with him, Obi-Wan heard Zuroyo Kenobi's family murmuring their approval of the ritual. More than one person had spoken of 'relief' in their eulogy. His biological father's last half-year had been difficult.

"Ohhh. . . . . "

A short, stout woman in the group had also fallen back and she suddenly grabbed him in a hug. He barely managed to pat her sides in return. She pulled back with a kind and teary smile and touched his face.

"Thank-you for coming. I know we've been very bad about sending any coms. We always said that you must be very busy, but . . . . really we were always the ones who were too busy. But I can see you have a good life." She hugged him again, not so tightly this time. More formally, like she had when he first arrived.

His own eyes teared up as he watched her go, rejoining her family. His biological mother. . . .

He had felt nothing. . . . .

Obi-Wan tugged his hood further forward to hide his face and folded his arms before him. His Master's tall dark robe appeared beside him. The other mourners stayed away from them. Some members of the Kenobi and Tushka families resumed curiously looking at them from the refreshment tables.

His control fleeing him, Obi-Wan clutched for the one thing he thought he could do, keeping his head down and not making any noise. He didn't know these people, so how could he be so stricken now?

He felt Qui-Gon's hand firmly grasping his arm and guiding him away from the gathering through an opening in the green stalks of grass towering over their heads. Of course his Master could sense his feelings. Shame tightened his throat. He couldn't speak.

They stopped at a low cliff overlooking a blue-green sea, gentle waves splashing on a green and dark purple mossy shore.

Hand on his shoulder, Qui-Gon turned him to face him. Obi-Wan held his head up, determined not to look down. Qui-Gon lifted his hood up and back off his head and he looked up to his Master.

Tears trailed down Qui-Gon's cheeks.

"Suppressing your feelings is not control, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together hard, still unwilling to let any sob out. But he had to. They came with every breath of air he gasped in. Qui-Gon laid his hand on his arms and stood close, lowering his forehead to touch his. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut.

"I don't know them. I don't know them. . . . ."

The reason why he should not feel anything at all suddenly transformed into his own personal tragedy. He did not know them. And that seemed horribly cruel. Zuroyo Kenobi had only been his biological father. But he had still been _somebody's_ father. And any opportunity to offer even token compassion when he was sick and most in need had slipped away from him unnoticed. He had failed somehow in his minimal obligation as a biological son to offer even a small act of kindness when it would have mattered. When his father was still alive.

Now it could never happen.

Qui-Gon remained motionless, his large hands firmly gripping his upper arms, thumbs curling over his shoulders. Comfortably neutral, he could cry out his regrets to his Master with no shame.

And to the Force.

He could feel it. One life gone, but still reflected in the family gathering beyond the screen of tall grass, part of the changes of life itself, like water returning to a warm sea.

The waves continued washing in and out on the mossy shore below until he finally seemed to run out of sadness and regret. It was still there, but spent, the pain of it bled out of him. He wiped his nose on his inner sleeve. His sniffles came out as obnoxious snorts and snuffles and he cringed.

"We should go back to the party."

"If you wish." Qui-Gon folded his arms before him, his expression neutral. But Obi-Wan still felt like something more was expected of him.

"My father is dead." His own words sounded dead to Obi-Wan as well, but he had run out of grief.

"Mine as well."

Obi-Wan could read nothing from his Master's reply. He had never thought about Qui-Gon having a father. Master's didn't need fathers. He looked toward the sounds of people. He knew that when he and Qui-Gon left that he would never see them again. He probably would never have reason to return to this world.

"It feels strange." Obi-Wan did not know why. He had seen death before, but this felt intangibly different.

"Death is a very permanent passing," Qui-Gon sighed. "Many possibilities that you were never aware of before are suddenly gone. You feel incomplete."

Obi-Wan watched his Master's dark blue eyes gazing skyward and wondered what memories lay behind the loss he heard in his tone. Then Qui-Gon seemed to notice him watching and he quirked a smile down at him. "But there are always new possibilities to take their place."

Obi-Wan nodded. New possibilities . . . . But they would not include the crowd of Kenobis nearby. He replaced the hood of his robe, exhaled and pushed past the giant grass blades. But just before he passed through the greenery, he felt a sharp tug at the back of his hood that pulled it back off his head. Quickly turning his head back, he saw his Master, his head also uncovered, smirking at him.

They joined the others at the refreshment tables. Some family members fell back with furtive glances toward their Jedi relative, but most seemed to accept him now. Zuroyo Kenobi's daughter, Wia-Naki, an older youngling with dark brown hair, offered him a small finger-cake and a smile. She had been born years after he'd had any contact with the family, so her status as his 'sister' was as impersonal as a title to him.

She shyly asked him about Coruscant. She had never been off-world. And her fingers were sticky. After eating the cake, a one-bite treat, Obi-Wan's fingers were sticky, too. As he told her about the Temple and the Republic's central city-world, he surveyed the refreshments.

Everything was sweet. Little cookies with white flower-shaped dabs of fluff-sugar on top. Multi-colored cakes. Blue sucking candies. Red crunching candies. Bright yellow and pink stretchy candies. A circle of pale cake cubes ringed a fountain of deep maroon syrup. Candied nuts. Fizzy drinks. delicate confections spun into green and purple loops. Platters of tiny pastries. The humid air felt even thicker with the clinging scents of so many sugars. He saw his Master test a pink berry, but he did not take another. Obi-Wan quickly dipped his fingers into one of the many cleansing finger bowls on the table.

The family and friends seemed to appreciate the excess of desserts, especially the smaller younglings darting under and around the table, their faces smudged with maroon syrup, but Obi-Wan had no appetite for it. When Wia-Naki tried to offer him a curling orange candy he diverted her attention by asking her about where she lived. Some of the adults, who had conspicuously been lingering near them listening to what he said about Coruscant, wandered off. Then Wia-Naki got tagged by a younger cousin and with a hurried 'excuse me' she rushed off to chase him.

Sighing, Obi-Wan wandered off away from the refreshments. The adults seemed to be shy of approaching him with anything other than bland condolences.

Qui-Gon stood at the sidelines of the group with Zuroyo Kenobi's nephew, Zeri Kenobi, a taller, blonder member of the clan in a faded blue suit. A few people had addressed him as 'Sheriff', but Obi-Wan did not know what the title was affiliated with. But both Jedi noted that he was armed when they were introduced, though Obi-Wan doubted that many of the mourners had noted the small blaster under his jacket.

" . . . . if the Minister wishes to make a special request they can submit it to the Jedi Temple through Senator Akazu's office."

Zeri Kenobi visibly squirmed, obviously unhappy with Qui-Gon's answer to some request he must have made.

"The Minister's secretary didn't give me any details, Master Qui-Gon. But I can guarantee you that they wouldn't have asked you to help them if it wasn't important."

Qui-Gon folded his arms before him. "Then I doubt that I can help you or them, Sheriff, without knowing more."

"Wait, wait." He held up a placating hand. "Just let me com them and they can tell you what they need." Sheriff Kenobi backed up to the edge of the tall grasses, his other hand pulling out a holocom from his pocket. He clicked it on and spoke softly, his back to them.

"Master, what did he want?"

Qui-Gon shrugged. "I do not know. Nor do I think, does he."

A moment later Sheriff Kenobi looked over his shoulder and made a 'come here' gesture, his eyes suspiciously scanning the other people at the gathering, but no one else was near. A few of them seemed to have left already. The Jedi joined him.

Sheriff Kenobi presented them with a small holo-projector, holding it so its image was concealed from the others in the area by Qui-Gon's body. The tiny transparent, bluish holo-figure, a middle-aged male Humanoid with thinning hair and wearing a crisp suit with square shoulders, curtly bowed. The Sheriff opened his mouth to introduce them, but the holo-figure cut him off.

"Master Jedi, I am Secretary Thayat Toibi, the prime assistant to Sub-Minister Lallot. I apologize for intruding upon your personal time on our world, but we require your assistance for a very . . . . delicate problem."

Qui-Gon was unimpressed with the man's title and vagueness.

"I am sorry, but as I told Sheriff Kenobi here, without more information about your problem, I cannot help you. Perhaps if you - - -"

Toibi cut him off.

"One of our leading citizens has apparently accidentally killed himself with an illegal lightsaber. I was hoping that you could come assist us with the investigation. Quickly and with as little public discourse as possible."

Qui-Gon's raised his brows. He unfolded his arms.

"We will require transport, of course, to your location."

"Sheriff Kenobi can take you in his flyer. I am sending the coordinates. Thank-you. We will be expecting you." The holo-image vanished.

Sheriff Kenobi flipped his holocom over, checking a small screen on back and rubbed a thumb over glowing control indicators.

"Got it," he told them with a hint of a smile. Qui-Gon nodded in return.

"Then we should proceed, immediately."

However, 'immediately' to Sheriff Kenobi still included a detour back toward the funeral gathering to tell his wife that he had to leave. And that he didn't know when he would return. And to give oblique non-answers to other members of the family about his 'official business' with their Jedi guests. Obi-Wan saw his Master impatiently sigh while this went on. Most of the people nearby craned their necks to look their way and then turned away as soon that they saw that he was looking back. Eyes and faces so similar to his own burning with curiosity about what was going on now with their strange relation.

Finally, the Sheriff finished and he led them down the pathway away from the gathering. Qui-Gon silently folded his arms, but Obi-Wan could tell that his Master was annoyed by the delay. They cleared the tall grasses and descended down a hill of low ferns and wild flowers. The hill was high enough to see the grays and pale pastels of the low buildings of the coastal city, Daealisho, filling the horizon beyond the nature preserve.

In a low, flat area was the cluster of park vehicles that nearly all the attendees had been required to use, leaving their own personal vehicles behind at a transport garage back at the city. Except for one police flyer, white with purple stripes marking the wings angled downward and the rear steering tail.

Sheriff Kenobi climbed into the pilot's seat on the right and after a gesture from his Master Obi-Wan took the front seat on the left while Qui-Gon squeezed himself into the rear space in the middle. The engine hummed; lights flashed from the wings, under and behind them, alternating white and purple. The flyer rose in the air and then took off over the parklands.

"Uh, those coordinates are in the next hemisphere by the capital city," Kenobi told them in a friendly tone as he steered the craft over the city and inland, a vast green plain before them.

"Your best speed should suffice for the Minister," Qui-Gon answered in an utterly neutral tone.

Now Obi-Wan was annoyed. In his years as Qui-Gon's apprentice he had seen his Master befriend any number of vagrants and space drifters on the pretext that they might be useful to their mission. Most of the time, they actually were; the Force guided Qui-Gon interactions with them. But not this time. Qui-Gon was just snubbing Zeri Kenobi because he was annoyed with him or the request for their assistance with a lightsaber accident or both.

"So, how long have you been Sheriff?"

Zeri looked startled that Obi-Wan had even spoken. "Oh, about four local years. About three standard." He cautiously divided his attention between the controls and his passengers. Obi-Wan noticed that his eyes were blue-gray, exactly the same as his own. His biological cousin, they were quite similar, though the other man was a little taller, older, his short hair a yellow-blond color.

"So, how'd you like the service?" Zeri asked.

**

* * *

- - - - - END PART 1 - - - - -**


	2. Chapter 2

**FATHERLESS**

by ardavenport

**- - - - - PART 2**

* * *

For the remainder of the trip Obi-Wan and his cousin, Zeri, talked about nothing but Kenobis. Obi-Wan had a flash of satisfaction from his Master's silent annoyance about being stuck in the cramped space behind them listening to it all. Obi-Wan happily ignored it, and it subsided into a stoic, meditative acceptance.

Though they were scattered all over the planet, no one in the family had emigrated off-world for at least ten generations, but there were a few loners and miscreants that Zeri wasn't sure of. Most of them got along fine, though some of them were much less social than others. Zuroyo Kenobi's family were notorious for shunning most family gatherings and only showing up for funerals. So, there had been quite a lot of jokes about how they all had to come to Zuroyo's send-off, since that was the only time the got to see him anyway. One cousin had suggested that they have his corpse re-animated so it could leave and then it wouldn't be a funeral any more. Zeri also admitted that for years Obi-Wan had been spoken of as the mysterious 'lost' Kenobi and that the glamor of that status had been somewhat spoilt by him actually showing up in person.

Obi-Wan laughed at that, but privately he knew that no one would feel slighted if he did not stay in contact with any of them after this. He would simply be maintaining his father's family tradition. He liked them. He enjoyed the moment of hearing about their lives from his cousin. But having a family seemed so . . . . complicated. No attachments: that was the Jedi way. And he felt himself strongly to be more part of the Jedi than to this family from Stewjon.

Their amiable chat had been disturbed only once when Zeri had asked Qui-Gon something and got no answer.

"Is there something wrong with him?" Zeri nervously asked when he realized that Qui-Gon was just sitting there, his dark blue eyes staring into space. Obi-Wan, knowing that his Master was perfectly aware of everything around him and everything that was said, assure his cousin that there was no problem.

"Oh, no. He just does that sometimes. He'll be fine." Obi-Wan supposed that some of the mystery of 'the lost one' could be re-established after he was gone.

By the time they reached their destination, Obi-Wan knew all the names, professions, relations, hobbies and residences of most of the Kenobi clan. Zeri piloted the flyer down onto a large private landing area next to a towering cliff-side fortress; the capital city covered much of the valley below. A line of polished dark-gray service and sentry droids waited. Zeri popped the canopy and then looked surprised by how spry his passengers seemed after the long trip sitting in one place, especially Qui-Gon. While Sheriff Kenobi worked the kinks out of his still joints, the Force flowed invisibly through the Jedi.

The line of sentries parted while the service droids moved in on the ship. The man from the holo-projector stepped forward, a gleaming black protocol droid attentively behind him. He bowed and they responded, Zeri a little clumsily. Secretary Toibi's business suit looked a little more rumpled than before and it was a vivid red and blue, a detail that had been washed out in the holo-transmission.

"Thank-you for coming, Master Jedi," Secretary Toibi greeted them, "we have left everything as it was for your examination."

"Thank-you, Secretary Toibi." Qui-Gon folded his arms. "But the Jedi's only interest in this is the missing lightsaber. The investigation into the death remains a local affair."

Toibi grimaced some displeasure but said nothing about Qui-Gon's aloofness. He turned to Zeri Kenobi. "Sheriff Kenobi, thank you for your assistance, our droids will have your ship ready to depart almost immediately." The dismissal was plain.

Obi-Wan read obvious disappointment in his cousin's expression. He was just a minor functionary who had no business with more important planetary crises. Just transport for the Jedi. He extended a hand and Obi-Wan clasped it in both of his in the local custom.

"We're all glad you came. There is a more private gathering at my father's apartments tonight. Do you think you'll be back?"

With a glance up at his Master's impassive face, Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't think so."

Clearly expecting him to decline, Kenobi shrugged. "That's fine. But we'll all be talking about you."

Let the mystery begin again. Obi-Wan grinned back. "Just don't forget my father while you're at it. Even if he doesn't show up."

Zeri laughed. Their hands parted and without a backward glance, he walked back to his flyer and he didn't look back. Obi-Wan rejoined his Master. While Secretary Toibi spoke, they walked toward the entry arch into the fortress, Obi-Wan a pace behind Qui-Gon.

The fortress was the private estate of Yarm Ot-Koff a leader of several major interplanetary industries and exports. He had been reclusive, but not abnormally so for a man of power. He had also been a well known rare weapons collector.

Collecting was a habit that Obi-Wan did not understand. He could see why people would want a home and possessions for comfort, but to purposefully acquire things just for the sake of having them make no sense at all. He surveyed the dark, opulent and imposing interior of the fortress, the mirror-polished black floors, the walls hung with plaques, pictures, tapestries and weapons. It seemed to him that the collector inevitable became possessed themselves by their collections.

They entered a lift and ascended into the private family section of the residence while Toibi continued his narrative. Nothing was known about the lightsaber itself other than that it was functional. They had been unable to obtain any information about Ot-Koff procurer and his private secretary droid was threatening to self-destruct out of loyalty for its master if they tried a memory download. The rest of the family was still uncooperative and the planetary constabulary was impatiently waiting at the scene for the Jedi to arrive.

The lift doors opened and the constabulary met them. Toibi introduced Inspector Aaah-zhiss, a stout Binothian female with white body fur, protruding snout and expressive, critical blue eyes. Her long ears were held tensely back on her skull in irritation. She wore only a minimal drape over her short-legged body with an iridescent badge of her authority pinned near the collar. Her assistant, Lieutenant Fifi, was a young Twi'Lek female with pale white skin tone. Her dark brown uniform closely conformed to her curving body and covered her everywhere except her bare middle.

"Thank-you for honoring us with your presence, Master Jedi." From her tone, Inspector Aaah-zhiss did not sound honored at all. "Though I seriously question the Minister's desire for secrecy in this matter. I daresay the whole planet is going to know of this soon enough anyway."

Sub-Minister Lallot was a large older woman with broad shoulders and black hair with blue highlights. A tailored, maroon soft-cloth suit covered her enormous body. Her small pink mouth puckered at the Inspector in distaste. Secretary Toibi took his place behind her.

"Inspector, out of respect for the family, I'm sure you can understand the need to handle this properly and discreetly."

"Oh, yes, the galaxy knows this planet will collapse into a singularity if we dare utter any word about the stupidity of any of our so-called leaders. Stupidity being so easily upgraded to a scandal."

Obi-Wan sensed that the Inspector's sarcasm was aimed more at the rich and powerful and not so much toward Yarm Ot-Koff in particular. They were escorted down a hall to the victim's private 'showroom'. That entire level of the residence was reserved for Ot-Koff's private use.

The scene of the crime was quite gruesome. In the middle of a large central space sprawled the victim. When the pink covering was pulled away, it revealed Ot-Koff's face, contorted with rage and horror. He had died in excruciating pain and not quickly. A charred circle marred the brocade fabric of his suit in the center of his abdomen, a matching black circle at his lower back where the blade had exited. From the circle the charring drew a wide wobbly line downward to the hip and then inward, severing the left leg entirely. It lay on the plush patterned carpeting. The pool of blood that oozed from the large arteries that had not been completely cauterized had dried. The air still smelled of burnt flesh, gore and fabric. But the body was further marked by an upward cut that must have completely obliterated the man's groin and ended in a gash to the right of the center charring.

The saber lay on the carpet by the man's right foot and the discarded pink sheeting. Qui-Gon bent to pick it up.

"Oh, no, Sir! This is a crime scene!"

Lieutenant Fifi rushed forward, her slender arms pulling back the frantic police droid. It was a dull gray analysis unit with extra arms for taking samples and scanning, not carrying weapons.

"Let him examine it, Cee-Tu!" Inspector Aaah-zhiss commanded, her voice loud and abrasive. "He's here on my authority."

The droid froze in Lieutenant Fifi's grasp before giving up and stepping back, it's cylindrical head spun back and forth fretfully. "Acknowledged. But really, Inspector, I don't know how we get anything done with all these irregularities." The machine pronounced the last word a distaste that most droids used for speaking about memory wipes and rust.

Aaah-zhiss nodded and Qui-Gon picked up the fallen lightsaber. He held it so Obi-Wan could see as well. It was old, with many scratches and scraped, rounded edges. The grip was solid black, heat-resistant plastoid. The pommel faded gold, the body silver, the emitter dented gold and silver, the room light dully reflecting from its damaged surfaces. It had been well used.

Qui-Gon held it out and Obi-Wan stepped back.

The blade hissed alive. Zzzzzhhh-ttt-sssss-ssssss-ssssss-sssss!

It was fiery green, similar to Qui-Gon's own saber.

Everyone else jumped back, the Minister and police analysis droid with inarticulate sounds of objection. Qui-Gon ignored them as if he were alone with Obi-Wan.

He tested the blade. Up, down. Side to side. He flicked it around at his side and around and up, the length of it centered with his body.

The motion looked good to Obi-Wan. And he sensed that it felt sound to his Master.

The lightsaber blade suddenly whirled, alternating to either side. The people and droid fearfully backed up even further. Qui-Gon lunged forward, sweeping the air, green blade flashing. He leaped back, tossing the lightsaber straight up. Spinning lazily upward, the blade's tip swept just short of the vaulted ceiling before it reached its apex and began falling.

Standing straight, Qui-Gon extended his right arm and caught it without looking, blade pointed straight up. He brought it before him again and clicked it off. Pursing his lips, he shrugged.

"Ot-Koff did not kill himself," he pronounced. "Someone else was holding the hilt when it activated."

"What?" Ears up, Inspector Aaah-zhiss advanced, the top of her furry head barely came up to Qui-Gon's chest, but she was just as broad.

"He could not have done this to himself," Qui-Gon stated calmly as if this was obvious. It certainly was to Obi-Wan, but he waited for his Master to explain.

"He was murdered?" Sub Minister Lallot exclaimed.

"I cannot say if it was actually murder. This is certainly not the work of an experience killer. This could just as easily have been an act of carelessness and panic. Or passion."

"Who did it?" the Inspector demanded with a snarl curling her lips back from her fangs. Qui-Gon remained calm.

"I cannot say. I was not here when it happened."

"But you Jedi have mind powers. You can see things. But you can't see who did this? A killer who used one of your own weapons?" Aaah-zhiss demanded.

"I suppose I could meditate on it. But images in the Force are a very indirect means of investigation, Inspector." He pointed toward Cee-Tu with the old lightsaber. "Your droid could more quickly extract far more believable and actionable evidence than anything I can tell you."

Cee-Tu excitedly came to them.

"Of course I thoroughly examined the entire scene upon our arrival. I have one-hundred and seventeen independent methods of extracting and recording data under all - - -"

"Yes, Cee-Tu!" The Inspector cut his droid off. "I'm sure that the Jedi do not need a detailed list of all of your superior techniques and programming. Master Jedi, Ot-Koff received this lightsaber only today and he showed it off immediately. Every member of the family has touched it. And all of them have motive to wish their patriarch dead. Now if you can't tell me who it is, I will have to begin tearing this place apart to find our how one or more of them managed to escape from here, locking this place from the inside, as they went. Are you sure he didn't do this to himself by accident?"

"Perfectly. I can demonstrate."

"How?"

"Hold out your hand please."

Inspector Aaah-Zhiss complied. Qui-Gon placed the lightsaber in the pad of her furry paw and ignited it. All the hair on the Inspector's body fluffed up in alarm, the deadly green blade pointing straight outward. Qui-Gon let go of her hand and stepped back. Obi-Wan winced at the graphic demonstration.

"Now drop it."

Aaah-Zhiss's eyes narrowed at Qui-Gon and she bared one fang. She let go of the saber.

As soon as it left her hand the blade extinguished and the hilt harmlessly fell down to the carpet with a muffled thump. Qui-Gon bent to pick it up again.

"If he had impaled himself with an accidental ignition, he would still have needed to exert some effort to move the blade through a solid object." Hand on the grip, he cradled the saber, the murder weapon, with his other hand for the Inspector. "He would have been in too much shock and simply fallen and let go. Unless he was completely suicidal and insensitive to pain, he would not have inflicted this much damage on himself."

Eyes on the weapon, the Inspector growled.

"But it stayed on!" Eyes wide, Lieutenant Fifi pointed up at the ceiling. "You just threw it up there just now. And it stayed on."

"That," Qui-Gon told her, "Is a Jedi skill. One which I seriously doubt that either Ot-Koff or any of his family possess. And this butchery," Qui-Gon looked down at the dismembered body disdainfully, "is not the work of Jedi skill, either."

Obi-Wan was proficient with a thrown lightsaber, but nowhere near Qui-Gon's level. A person not sensitive to the Force could never defeat the automatic deactivation as soon as they let go of the hilt.

The Inspector paced around the body thoughtfully. Her eyes narrowed on the saber in Qui-Gon's hand and then back to the victim.

Sub-Prime Minister Lallot stepped forward, the folds of her soft suit waving and rustling with the movement of her huge bulk. "Inspector, we can't - - -"

Aaah-Zhiss snapped a snarl at her. She squeaked in surprise.

"Minister! If this is murder then minimizing any scandal is not an option!" The Inspector huffed. "But I think we can agree on the need to uncover the murderer as quickly as possible." She paced some more, all around the body until she ended up at Qui-Gon. She appraised him up and down.

"You said you could do something at least to find out who did this."

"I can meditation on it. But the Force may or may not aid you in your quest."

She fingered the edge of her body drape. "So, what do you do?"

"Do?"

"Yes," she waved her hands before her, "what do you actually do when you meditate with this Force thing?"

"I sit in a quiet place, clear my mind and think about it," Qui-Gon answered bluntly down to her.

She curled her lip in thought, her eyes half lidded, her ears twitching. "Could you do it here?"

Qui-Gon looked around. There were plenty of cushioned chairs. "Yes."

"Then do it."

"Now?" Qui-Gon tilted his head.

"Yes, now," she hissed back, annoyed. And," she grabbed Qui-Gon's arm and positioned him facing the victim, "do it here."

Qui-Gon sighed, looked around and picked out a backless chair with a wide blue cushion. He brought it back to where Aaah-zhiss had indicated.

"Wait."

Qui-Gon looked up.

The Inspector waved a paw at him. "Further back."

Qui-Gon picked the chair up and moved it back. There were two full suits of Madaloran armor on either side of him. He gave them an annoyed glance before sitting down, pulling his legs up and sat with them crossed on the cushion.

"That's good," Aaah-Zhiss approved. "Now, try to look . . . . mysterious."

Qui-Gon pushed his long hair back behind his shoulders and put the hood of his robe up. He laid his arms on the chair rests. The old lightsaber, the murder weapon, rested on the edge of the chair in front of him.

"Perfect. You," she jabbed a paw finger at Obi-Wan. He started. This was the first time anyone in the room had acknowledged that he was even there. "Stand next to him and look . . . . attentive." He put the hood of his own robe up and folded his arms before him. She nodded approval before turning to a smirking Lieutenant Fifi.

"Master, what is she doing?" Obi-Wan asked quietly without moving from his place.

"I believe that the Inspector thinks that she can frighten the murderer into confessing. And we are her props."

"Can she do that?"

"She can try."

"Wait!" Inspector Aaah-Zhiss bustled up to them again. She snatched up the lightsaber. "I need this," she declared to Qui-Gon's stony glare.

"It will be going back with us to Coruscant, Inspector."

The Inspector's ears flattened. "It is evidence in a crime, Master Jedi."

"I believe you will find that the Jedi Antiquities Laws supercede _all_ local ordinances. It is now in the custody of the Jedi Order."

Her white furry muzzle snarled. "Well, you're not going back Coruscant right now, and I need it for this demonstration."

Qui-Gon's head twitched, minimal permission for her to take it.

Qui-Gon inhaled, let it out slowly and closed his eyes. He really was going to meditation on what had happened with the lightsaber. Obi-Wan thought about doing so himself, but he wondered if the Inspector would think he was looking 'attentive' enough. At the moment, it was more interesting to watch. The Inspector paced by the still exposed body. Lieutenant Fifi had gone out to get the family of suspects. The Sub-Minister and her secretary whispered together under a fan-display of long blaster rifles. He wondered if this was the best setting to confront a murderer in. With the clear-plas enclosed cabinets of small arms, the walls hung with blasters and electro-whips and the display pedestals of special items like a Clufas Warrior's mandibles, razor boots and a spiked helmet, the room was filled with weapons.

**

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- - - - - END PART 2 - - - - -**


	3. Chapter 3

**FATHERLESS**

by ardavenport

**- - - - - PART 3**

* * *

Just before Ot-Koff's family and heirs arrived, Inspector Aaah-Zhiss pointed at the police droid sternly and ordered, "Not a word from you, Cee-Tu, this time. Not. One. Word."

The droid drew back, but complied with a resigned wave of it's two primary appendages and parked itself by a wall next to a blocky statue of some violent and bloody-looking deity.

There were no introductions when the family arrived with a contingents of four armed police droids, so Obi-Wan had no idea how they were related to each other, but he could make some guesses. Wife, son, daughter, brother, uncle, niece, nephew, son-by-marriage, nephew, niece, sister-by-marriage. They were all well dressed, the older ones with tall ornate head-dresses. Two adult males and a youngling girl strongly resembled the victim. The police droids lined up by a wall in front of a display of electro-pikes.

Someone in the group shrieked.

It took a moment for the commotion and outrage at the exposed body 'in such a state' died down a bit. Some of them bravely looked while others turned away. And a few more gloated. Obi-Wan watched from the safety of the shadows under his hood and remained still, his arms folded before him.

A thin son/nephew-like person pointed. "Who are they? What are they doing here?"

"Aaaaaaah." Inspector Aaah-zhiss acted as if she had just noticed them herself. She waved an arm in their direction. "That is Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. They happened to be on Stewjon for other business and were kind enough to assist me in my investigation.

"Actually," she lowered her tone, "the Jedi Order takes great offense to outsiders using their sacred weapons for ill purposes. Master Qui-Gon is using his Jedi mental abilities to determine exactly who desecrated this lightsaber." He paw stroked the hilt though Obi-Wan could see she kept well away from the activation switch.

The identity of the murderer became immediately apparent when a thin woman in the middle of the group clasped her hands to her mouth, her painted eyes suddenly brimming with tears. She was elegantly dressed in a pale green, floor length sheath that looked like two halves joined with string criss-crossing down her front, the openings revealing only a few parts of her young body. Matching fingerless gloves covered her arms up to her elbows. Shimmering sticks pointed upward from the thick brown hair piled on her head.

One surly Ot-Koff-look-alike seemed unimpressed. "Yeah, well when? Looks like they're just sitting there right now."

Inspector Aaah-zhiss ignored the derisive tone. Having spotted the panicky woman in the middle, she continued to pour on the drama. "Since the crime was committed with a Jedi weapon, we're not clear about the jurisdiction. It could be declared a capital crime against the Galactic Republic."

"Wait! What are you talking about?" A young man in a loose blue tunic and matching slicked back hair clasped the woman in pale green; she clung to him like a lifeline. "First you say this was just an accident, now it's murder? Our father was waving that thing in front of all of us! What proof do you have that one of us did this?"

"Yarm Ot-Koff could not have caused so much damage to himself if he were holding the weapon." The Inspector held the lightsaber out, pointed away from everyone else, and turned it on. The family group flinched back from the blazing green blade. The police droids alerted, their necks extended higher, their eye sensors scanning the action.

She dropped it and the blade immediately went out as soon as it left her paw. She scooped it up from the carpet.

"As you can see, if Ot-Koff had just impaled himself it would have been a simple injury though probably still fatal. But given that he was cut multiple times, I can only conclude that someone else was holding it for him."

The woman in pale green cried out and hugged the man closer, burying her face in his shoulder. Everyone else in the group had now noticed her and began voicing their reactions.

"You've got to be kidding." "Lessmi? Lessmi? She killed that poisonous old miser?" "That simpering little - - " "Skewered by his favorite; that's rich!" "She couldn't have!" "Well, I guess she's dumb enough - - "

"Shut up! Shut up!" The man clutching Lessmi shouted at the people around him. "Don't tell me you all wouldn't have done it if you had half the chance!"

"But none of _us_ did it." A short, broad-shouldered young man with receding hair pointed accusingly. "I shall not pretend to be sorry it happened," he continued with a grin, "or that someone _else_ will be taking the blame."

"You little duzhcref eater," the man snarled back. The woman clinging to him whimpered, "It was an accident it was an accident it was an accident. . . " into his shirt.

"Lessmi Ot-Koff." The Inspector stepped forward, the rest of the family backing up. "I must inform you that anything you might impart, verbal or otherwise, will become part of this - - -"

"AAAAAAA-aaaaaiiiii-iiiiiieeeee!"

Eyes wild, Lessmi shrieked, whirling and lunging at the Inspector.

Qui-Gon smoothly pushed himself up from the chair, his robe falling to the ground behind him.

The old lightsaber zipped away, from the Inspector's paw and Lessmi's grasping fingers, across the room to Qui-Gon's outstretched hand. It ignited, along with his own.

Obi-Wan tensed, hesitating about joining his Master now advancing on the group, lightsabers in each hand angled downward.

Immediately, his hesitation became his decision. Obi-Wan did not move from where he stood.

Qui-Gon swept past the gruesome body on the carpet toward the suddenly fearful family.

A shot, a single red blaster bolt zipped toward his Master. Without breaking his stride he brushed it aside with a lightsaber. It harmlessly singed a light fixture shaped like a blaster cannon. In a room full of weapons, it seemed almost reasonable that the family of a well-knows weapons collector would be armed. Obi-Wan swiftly unclipped his own lightsaber, activating it . The family cowered back away from Lessmi and her supporter, leaving a clear space around them. Lessmi shrieked and trembled.

Qui-Gon slowed and the two lightsaber blades vanished with dual snapping hisses. He towered over the terrified woman.

"Thank-you Master Jedi," Inspector Aaah-zhiss said, smoothly inserting herself between the Jedi and her suspect, "for that exceptional demonstration.

Obi-Wan stopped, deactivating his own lightsaber.

The Inspector turned back to Lessmi Ot-Koff and continued instructing her about her legal options and status. The police droids had their guns up and ready but still dithered about what to do, their heads indecisively swivelling from side to side.

Completely shut out from the police business, Qui-Gon looked around and stepped back. The family members fearfully divided their attention between the arrest and the Jedi. But they did put away their weapons, mostly small concealable blasters and stunners. When the inspector finished, she cued one of the droids, it stepped forward and escorted Lessmi and the man out. The other family members grumbled loudly to Sub-Minister Lallot about being invited back downstairs for more statements for the police investigation as they all followed, escorted by the rest of the droids.

"I don't know how you get away with these theatrics," Cee-Tu complained as it left with Lieutenant Fifi. Last, the Inspector gave them an appreciative wink and a bared fang before leaving. The door slid closed behind them all.

Qui-Gon sighed, clipped his lightsaber to his belt. He sadly considered the old one, the murder weapon. Obi-Wan joined him.

"Was it an accident?" Obi-Wan had a sense that the woman had not been murderous, just terrified by what had happened, and what would happen to her now. But Qui-Gon easily would have seen her motives more clearly.

"Oh, yes." The older man sighed. "She was horrified by what happened. But she has not accepted that she might have been responsible, only that other people might find her guilty because she hated her father. She loved him as well. As did most of the others. I suspect that Yarm Ot-Koff's offspring were quite similar to him."

Qui-Gon handed Obi-Wan the old lightsaber. He held it reverently, his fingers stroking the scratched and dented emitter. They would take it back to the Temple and the Archive droids would identify the Jedi who made it. He hoped that it had just been lost in an accident; sometimes things like that happened. And sometimes killers took the lightsabers from dead Jedi as valuable prizes, to be illegally sold for a high price or kept for status. Eventually, they tended to find their way to collectors like Yarm Ot-Koff, who had now inadvertently surrendered it back to the Jedi.

Qui-Gon bent down and picked up the discarded sheeting, shook it out, a huge billowing pink wave in the air that he lowered over the body, restoring the privacy of the deceased.

The door slid open again. Lieutenant Fifi and Cee-Tu returned.

"We need the lightsaber back," Fifi told them in a very polite tone, her large brown eyes apologetic, her small hands clasped before her. She inclined her head toward Obi-Wan and smiled, one shapely hip shifting in his direction.

Qui-Gon silently shook his head. Obi-Wan clasped the lightsaber in both hands and didn't move though he shrugged with a little sympathy back to Fifi. His Master held his hand out and Obi-Wan gave it to him.

Cee-Tu straightened officiously.

"That lightsaber is evidence. You can't just take - - "

Hhhhffffsss-sssss-ssss-sssssssss-ttttttt!

"Aaah!"

Cee-Tu's head alerted, stiffly as high as it could go on its small neck, but still perfectly still, the glowing green blade of the old lightsaber less than a finger length away from the ear-grid on its side. Qui-Gon kept his eyes on Lieutenant Fifi whose expression had hardened, her lips pressed together. The lightsaber blade clicked off.

"As I told the Inspector, the Jedi Antiquities Laws supercede all of your local laws. The lightsaber stays with us. We are available for any statements that the Inspector requires before we leave. But there will be no more demonstrations."

Fifi's small mouth pouted, her expression calculating. "At least let Cee-Tu take some extra scans of it."

"As long as Cee-Tu performs them here."

Fifi gave him a quick nod. Qui-Gon went to a large display table of detonators (Obi-Wan presumed that they had been inerted) and placed the lightsaber on an empty space at the end. He stepped back, letting Fifi and the droid have plenty of room. Cee-Tu fearfully kept the Lieutenant between it and Qui-Gon..

Obi-Wan joined his Master.

"What were you going to say to her?"

Qui-Gon looked down at him, his expression curious.

"What were you going to say to Lessmi Ot-Koff?"

"Aaah," Qui-Gon turned toward where they had been sitting and they walked together. "I was going to tell her that her father died. She was quite traumatized by the accident. I don't believe that she had comprehended that reality."

They reached the end of the room and Qui-Gon stooped to pick up his discarded robe while Obi-Wan tried to puzzle out what he had said earlier.

"She loved and hated him?"

Qui-Gon nodded, shaking out the dark brown robe. "Yes. That happens quite often with fathers."

Obi-Wan hunched his shoulders, remembering the morning.

"I suppose I don't know about that."

Qui-Gon paused, his robe hanging off of one shoulder. Then he finished shrugging it on. He put his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders

"I suppose I don't know anything about it either."

**- - - - - - END - - - - - -**

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This story was first posted on tf.n: 13-September-2010

**Disclaimer: **All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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